I'm in an airport heading to NYC to race my bicycle. I'm flipping through the September edition of Vogue, sitting in a long, hidden, silvery corridor. Here I am at a silver table and chair, looking out onto the massive runways the heat rolls off the planes in quivering waves. I'm thinking, typing, and listening, watching the quicksilver of heat smearing its way across the engine air.
A cool breeze of AC occasionally swirls and drafts around my new birthday perfume from my sweetie.

I think back on the events of the day leading up to this quiet moment. Before I left the house today I baked a turkey and grilled all the veggies in the fridge. I stir fried quiona and lentils, made a salad to nibble with a carrots and tomotoes and a couple pieces of bacon. I drank the last of the milk, brewed coffee, when it cooled, I slammed the rest of it. Then I placed all the food from the oven and range into the freezer to freeze until after I return. So Andrew and I can enjoy a good home cooked meal together, it's been a while.

So now my hair smells a little like a restaurant kitchen. It would have been nice to have time to shower before the airport. Water somehow clears my mind. I never know how long I've been in the shower. Time ceases to exist in there because my mind spaces out a little bit. Which is allowed when in the shower. Sometimes the same thing happens when I'm riding too, all of a sudden the sun is about to set and I'm miles and miles from home. It's just it's too beautiful to abandon a setting sky. Everything surrenders, the wind changes, the birds fly in waves, thd bugs come out to sing. When I realize that I don't remember the last 10 miles, I somehow know they included a couple stoplights and several turns, and that's when I know it was a good ride. It all fuzes together like a long spine and time disappears into a mental vortex.

*schllllloooooop*

There are a couple of tiny tree branches painted red and purple on my windowsil. One of them is deep violet, and the other is arterial red and violet stripped. Strangely, in a childlike way. I'm glad i didn't throw them away, they have a certain beauty this way too.

Today I rode my bicycle alone. I miss my guy. It was a little lonesome but I saw funny things on the way home. It all made me laugh a little, but it's not the same when alone.

Outside of the window, it's black black black except for the streetlight shining on the hood of my nearby car. There is no wind, everything looks so still. I wonder if Andrew is sleeping.

I can see my reflection in the window, superimposed over the street light. If I focus on the window, I'm a bit clearer, but if I focus on the light, I become a blur of eyes and hair. A conscious memory, a subconscious dream. A blur, out of sight, and I dissipate into thin air.